waking up with writing all over me, a head full of loose concrete and looking at a room I don’t initially recognize. Typical. I remember enough to know the night wasn’t all good. A blubbering whiny mess on mikes lap as he drove my car to wherever it was we were going. “you fucked up a little, but ok, it happens.” collapsed on the stairs, collapsed on the floor of emily’s apartment, collapsed on the couch that turned into a bed by the time I woke up. A lot of collapsing and passouts, apply the metaphor any which way you feel like. Appropriate, very appropriate.

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